CHAPTER II
A TALK ABOUT LEAVING MAYFIELD
The next day a big snow fell. It was one of those snows which fallso thick and fast and fine, that when you look out of the windows itseems as if great white sheets were being let down from the skies.When Rob first waked and saw this snow falling, he exclaimed:--
"Hurrah! here's a bully snow-storm! Now we'll get some snow-balling.Say, Nell, won't you help me build a real big snow-fort with highwalls that we can stand behind, and fire snow-balls at the boys?"
"Oh, Rob!" said Nelly, "I'm afraid mamma won't let you play in thesnow yet: your throat isn't well enough; but by next week I think itwill be. We'll have snow right along now all winter."
"Oh, dear!" said Rob, fretfully: "there it is again. I can't ever doany thing I want to."
"Why, Rob," replied Nelly, "aren't you ashamed of yourself, withthat lovely kaleidoscope and all those books? I shouldn't thinkyou'd want to go out to-day. I'm sure I don't. I'd rather stay athome with Mrs. Napoleon and the rest of my dolls all day than goanywhere,--that is, unless it was to take a sleigh-ride. Mamma saidperhaps, if it stopped snowing, papa might take us on a sleigh-ridethis afternoon."
"Did she?" exclaimed Rob; "oh, bully! But then I suppose I can'tgo," he added, in a quite altered tone.
"Oh, yes! you can," answered Nelly, "mamma said so. I heard hertell papa it would do you good to go well wrapped up."
"I hate to be bundled up so," said Rob. "It's as hot as fury; and,besides, it makes the boys laugh; last time I went out so, NedSaunders he stood on his father's store steps, when we stoppedthere,--mamma wanted to buy a broom,--and Ned called out, 'By-by,baby bunting, where's your little rabbit skin?' I shan't go if mammamakes me wear that red shawl, so!" and Rob's face was the picture ofmisery.
Nelly's cheeks flushed at the thought of the insulting taunt to Robwhich was conveyed in that quotation from Mother Goose: but she wasa very wise and clear-headed little girl, as you have no doubtdiscovered before this time, and she knew much better than to letRob think she felt as he did about it; so all she said was, "I don'tcare: I shouldn't mind. If Ned Saunders had the sore throat, he'dhave to be wrapped up just the same way. Boys are a great dealhatefuller than girls. No girl would ever say such a thing as thatto a girl if she was sick, or to a boy either."
"No, I don't suppose they would," said Rob, reflectively. "Girls arenicer than boys some ways: that's a fact."
In the excitement of the Christmas presents, and the getting of theChristmas dinner, and all the housework which had to be doneafterward, Nelly had forgotten about the conversation which she hadoverheard in the night between her father and mother. But in thequiet of this stormy morning it all came back to her. She and Robwere spending the forenoon in the place which they liked best in allthe house, their mother's room. It was a beautiful sunny chamber,with two big bay-windows in it,--one looking to the south, and oneto the west; the south window looked out on the garden, and the westwindow looked out on a great pine grove which was only a few rodsaway from the house; on the east side of the room was the fireplacewith a low grate set in it; the fire burned better in this fireplacethan in any other in the house, the children thought. That wasbecause they had a nice time every night, sitting down a while infront of this fire and talking with their mother. This was the timewhen they told her things they didn't quite like to tell in thedaytime; and this was the time she always took to tell them thingsshe was anxious they should remember. They associated all theirtalks with the bright open fire; and, whenever they saw the flamesof soft coal leaping up and shining, they remembered a great manythings their mother had said to them.
There was a large old-fashioned mahogany table on one side of thisroom, which Mrs. March used for cutting out work, and which thechildren liked better than any thing in the room. It had drolltwisted legs which ended in knobs and castors, and it had big leavesfastened on with brass hinges which opened and shut; when theseleaves were open the table was so big that both Rob and Nelly couldbe up on it at once, and have plenty of room for their things. Thismorning their mother had let them open it out to its full size, andpush it close up in one corner of the room, so that the walls made afine back for them to lean against. Nelly sat on one side, with allher dolls ranged in a row against the wall, Mrs. Napoleon at thehead. In front of her, she had all their clothes in one great pile,and was sorting and arranging them in the little bureau and trunkand boxes in which she kept them. Rob sat opposite her with his feeton a blanket shawl, so that they would not scratch the mahogany; hewas reading the "Cliff Climbers," and every few minutes he wouldbreak out with:--
"This is the most splendid story of all yet."
"Nell, look at this picture of them going up over the cliff byropes. Oh, don't I just wish I could go to some such place!"
Nelly sat on one side with all her dolls ranged in arow against the wall. _Page 20_]
After a while, Nelly leaned her head back against the wall, andstopped playing with her dolls. She looked at the snow-stormoutside, and the bright fire in the grate, and exclaimed, "Oh,mamma! isn't it nice here?"
There was something in Nelly's tone which made her mother look upsurprised.
"Why, yes, dear; of course it is nice here; it is always nice here;what made you think of it just now?"
Nelly March was one of the honestest little girls that ever lived.Nothing seemed to her so dreadful as a lie; but she came very neartelling one now.
"I don't know, mamma," she said; but, almost before the words wereout of her mouth, she added:--
"Yes, I do know, too; I meant I didn't want to tell."
"Why not? my little daughter," said Mrs. March, looking muchpuzzled. "Surely it cannot be any thing you do not want mamma toknow."
"Oh, no, mamma! it is something you didn't want me to know," saidNelly hastily, turning very red.
"Something I didn't want you to know, Nell," she said. "What do youmean? And how did you know it then?"
"She listened, she listened," cried Rob, throwing down his book,"and she wouldn't tell me a thing either, and she was real mean."
The tears came into Nelly's eyes, and Mrs. March looked very sternlyat Rob.
"Rob," she said, "telling tales is as mean as listening: I'm ashamedof you. Nell, what does he mean?"
Poor Nelly was almost crying.
"Indeed, mamma," she exclaimed, "I didn't listen; and I told Robthen I didn't; he's told a lie, a wicked lie, and he ought to bepunished, mamma; he knows it's a lie."
"It ain't either," shouted Rob, "if you didn't listen how'd youhear? She did listen, mamma, and now she's told a lie too."
Mrs. March threw down her sewing, and walked quickly across the roomto the table where the children were sitting. She put one hand onNelly's head, and one on Rob's.
"My dear children," she said, "you shock me. Do think what you aresaying: this is a bad beginning for the new year."
"'Tain't New Year yet for a week," muttered Rob. "This needn'tcount."
Mrs. March laughed in spite of herself.
"Every thing counts, Rob, which we do, whether it is the beginningof a New Year or not. Mamma ought not to have spoken as if that madeany odds. But you must not accuse each other of lying. That is amost dreadful thing. I know neither of you would tell a lie."
"Course we wouldn't," cried both the children.
"Neither would Nelly listen, Rob, in any such sense as you meant,"continued Mrs. March. "Sometimes we over-hear things when we do notmean to."
"That's just the way it was, mamma," interrupted Nelly eagerly; "andI told Rob so: it was in the night, night before last, and you andpapa were talking, and I was awake, and I could not help hearing,and I coughed as loud as I could for you to hear."
"Oh," said Mrs. March, "that is it, is it? I remember you coughed,and I shut the door. I did not think you were awake, but I wasafraid we should waken you. We were talking about going away fromthis place."
"Yes, mamma," said Nelly, in a sad tone.
"Going away! Oh, mamma, are
we really going away? oh, where? saywhere, mamma, say quick!" cried Rob, throwing down his "CliffClimbers," and springing from the table to the floor at one bound.
"Gently, gently, wild boy," said Mrs. March, catching Rob by one armand drawing him into her lap. In spite of all Rob's ill temper andselfishness, I think Mrs. March loved him a little better than sheloved Nelly. Neither Nelly nor Rob dreamed of this, and perhaps Mrs.March never was conscious of it herself; but other people could seeit.
"Why, Rob," she said, "would you be glad to go away from this house,and the grove, and the pond, and from all your friends, and go tolive in a strange place where you didn't know anybody?"
Rob's face sobered.
"To stay, mamma?" he said, "to stay always?"
Nelly did not speak. She knew more about this matter than Rob did.She watched her mother's face very earnestly and sadly, and tearsfilled her eyes when Mrs. March answered:--
"I am afraid so, Rob: if we go I do not believe we shall ever comeback. I didn't mean to let you know any thing about it till it wasall settled. But, since you have heard something about it, I willtell you all I know myself. Come here, Nelly; both of you sit downnow at my feet, and I will talk to you about it."
Nelly and Rob sat down on two low crickets by their mother's knee,and looked up in her face without speaking. They felt that somethingvery serious was coming. Before Mrs. March began to speak, shekissed them both several times, then she said:--
"There is one thing I am very sure of: both my little children willbe brave and good, if hard times come."
"Oh, mamma! tell us quick; don't bother," interrupted impatient Rob,"let's know what it is quick, mamma. Are we going to be awful poor,like the people in story books? I don't care if we are, if that'sall. Let's have it over."
Mrs. March laughed again: one reason she loved Rob so much was thathis temper was so much like her own. It had been very hard for herherself to learn to be patient, and to be sufficiently moderate inher speech; and even now there was nothing in the world she dislikedso much as suspense of any kind. She could make up her mind toendure almost any thing, if only it were fixed and settled. So whenRob burst out with impatient speeches like this one, she knewexactly how he felt. And sometimes when Nelly took things quietlyand calmly, and was so deliberate in all her movements, Mrs. Marchmisunderstood her, and thought she did not really care about anything half as much as Rob did. But the truth was, Nelly really careda great deal more about almost everything, than he did. He forgotthings in a day, or an hour even; sad things, pleasant things, allalike: they blew away from Rob's memory and Rob's heart like leavesin a great wind, and he never thought much more about any thing thanjust whether he liked it or disliked it at the moment. The phrase heused to his mother just now was very often on his lips, "Oh, don'tbother!" Especially he used to say this to Nelly whenever she triedto reason with him about something which she thought not quite rightor not quite safe. You would have thought to hear them talk thatNelly was at least five years older than he: she talked to him likea little mother. At this moment, when Rob was hurrying his mother soimpatiently, Nelly exclaimed, "Oh, hush, Rob! do let mamma tell itas she wants to;" and Nelly drew up close to her mother's side, andlaid her cheek down on her mother's hand. Nelly's heart was as fullas it could be of sympathy: she knew that her mother felt veryunhappy about going away, and Nelly's way of showing her sympathywas to be very loving and tender and quiet; but, strange as it mayseem, this did not comfort and help Mrs. March so much as Rob'soff-hand and impatient way.
"Well, but she's so slow: ain't you slow, mamma? And it's horrid towait," replied Rob.
"Yes, Rob," laughed Mrs. March. "I am rather slow, and it is horridto wait; but I won't be slow any longer: this is what papa and Iwere talking about the other night,--about going out to Colorado tolive."
"Colorado! where's that? Is it anywhere near the Himalayas?" criedRob. "If it is, I'd like to go; oh, I'd like to go ever so much."
Mrs. March laughed out loud. "Oh you droll Rob," she said. "No, it'snowhere near the Himalayas; but there are mountains there about ashigh as the Himalayas,--higher than any other mountains in America."
"Are there elephants?" said Rob. "I wouldn't mind about any thing ifthere are only elephants."
"Rob, how can you!" burst out Nelly, with a vehemence very unusualin her. "How can you! It's because papa's sick that we are going."
"Why, what's the matter with papa?" said Rob, wonderingly.
Mr. March had been a sufferer from asthma for so many years that noone any longer thought of him as an invalid. He was very rarelyconfined to the house, and, except in the summer, his asthma did notgive him a great deal of trouble; but in the summer it was so badthat for weeks he was not able to preach at all: I believe I haveforgotten all this time to tell you that he was a minister. I havebeen so busy talking about Nelly and Rob, that I have hardly toldyou any thing about their papa and mamma.
Mr. March had been settled in this village of Mayfield for fifteenyears, and the people loved him so much that they would not hear ofhaving any other minister. When his asthma was so bad that he couldnot preach, they hired some one else; always in the summer they gavehim a two-months' vacation; and, whenever any stranger said anything unkind about his asthmatic voice, they always replied, "If Mr.March couldn't preach in any thing more than a whisper, we'd ratherhear him than any other man living." The truth was, that they hadgrown so accustomed to the asthmatic, wheezy tone, that they did notnotice it. It really was very unpleasant to a stranger's ear, andeverybody wondered how a whole congregation of people could endureit. But it is wonderful how much love can do to reconcile us todisagreeable things in the people we love; and not only to reconcileus to them, but to make us forget them entirely. Nelly and Rob neverthought but that their father's voice was as pleasant as anybody's:when his breath came very short and quick, they knew he wassuffering, but at other times they did not remember any thing abouthis having asthma; this was the reason that Rob said so wonderinglynow:--
"Why, what is the matter with papa?"
Mrs. March's voice was very sad as she replied:--
"Only his asthma, dear, which he has had so many years, but it isgrowing much worse; and we have seen a gentleman lately who has comefrom Colorado, and he says that people never have asthma at allthere, and the doctor says if papa does not go to some such climateto live, he will get worse and worse, so that he will not be able todo any thing. You don't know how much poor papa suffers, even here.He has not been able to lie down in bed for almost a year now; eversince early last summer."
"Not lie down!" exclaimed Nelly, "why, what does he do, mamma? Howdoes he sleep?"
"He sleeps propped up with pillows, dear, almost as straight as hewould be in a chair," replied Mrs. March.
"Oh, dear," cried Rob, "isn't that awful! Why didn't you ever tellus, mamma? Isn't he awful tired? What makes people not have asthmain Colorado, anyhow?"
"Which question first, Rob?" said Mrs. March. "I haven't told you,because papa dislikes very much to have any thing said about it.Yes: he is very tired all the time. He never feels rested in themorning as you do. I don't know why people never have asthma inColorado; but I think it must be because the air is so very drythere. They never have any rain there from October to April, and thecountry is very high; some of the towns where people live are twiceas high as the highest mountains you ever saw."
"Mamma!" exclaimed Rob, with so loud and earnest a voice that bothMrs. March and Nelly gave a little jump. "Mamma, if it's the beingso high up that does the good, why couldn't we go to the Himalayasinstead? Oh, it's perfectly splendid there! just let me read youabout it," and Rob ran back to the table for his "Cliff Climbers,"and was about to begin to read aloud from it. Mrs. March could nothelp laughing: and Nelly laughed too; for Nelly, although she was noolder than Rob, was very much ahead of him in her studies at school,and she knew very well where the Himalaya mountains were, and thatthere would be no way of living there comfortably even if it werenot quite too far to go.
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"But, Rob,--" began Mrs. March.
"You just wait till I read you, mamma," interrupted Rob; "youhaven't read the 'Cliff Climbers,' and you don't know any thingabout it. Perhaps the doctors don't know how many good things growthere; and the mountains are five miles high, some of them. I'm surepapa couldn't have the asthma as high up as that: could he?"
"My dear little boy," said Mrs. March, putting her hand on the bookand shutting it up, "you are always too hasty: you must stop andlisten. Nobody could live five miles up in the air. That would be asmuch too high as this is too low; and things which sound very fineto read about would be very inconvenient in real life."
"Yes," interrupted Rob, "an elephant tore down their cabin onenight,--just tramped right over it, and smashed it all flat as wewould an ant-hill. That wouldn't be very nice: but we needn't livewhere the elephants come; we could just go out to hunt them in thesummer."
Rob's eyes were dark blue, and when he was eager and excited theyseemed to turn black, and to be twice their usual size. He was soeager now that his eyes were fairly dancing in his head. He waspossessed of this idea about going to live in the Himalayamountains, and nothing could stop him.
"They're all heathen there too, mamma, and wouldn't papa like that?He could preach to them, don't you know? Oh, it would be splendid!and I could collect seeds just like these cliff climbers, and stuffbirds, and make lots of money sending them back to this country."
"Oh, Rob!" exclaimed Nelly, at last; "do stop talking, and let mammatalk: she hasn't half told us yet. It's all nonsense about theHimalayas. We couldn't go there; nobody goes there. I'll just showyou on your new globe where it is, and you can see for yourself." Sosaying, Nelly ran for the globe, and was proceeding to show Rob whata long journey round the world it would be to reach the Himalayas;but Rob pushed the globe away.
"I don't care any thing about the old globe," he said; "people do gothere, for Mayne Reid's books are all true; he says they are, and itisn't all nonsense about the Himalayas; is it, mamma? Couldn't we gothere?"
Rob was fast growing angry.
"No, Rob," said Mrs. March: "we cannot go to the Himalayas to live;that is very certain. One of these days, when you're a man, I hopeyou will be able to go all about the world and see all thesecountries you are so fond of reading about: you will have to waittill then for the Himalayas. If we go away from home at all, we mustgo to Colorado. That is quite far enough: it will take us four wholedays and five nights, going just as fast as the cars can go, to getthere."
"I don't care where we go, if we can't go to the Himalayas," saidRob, sulkily. "I think it's real mean if we've got to go away not togo there. I know it would be real good for papa."
Mrs. March laughed again very heartily.
"Rob," she said, "you are a very queer little boy. Mamma can'tunderstand how you get so excited over things in such a short time.A few minutes ago you had never thought of such a thing as going tothe Himalayas; and here you are already sure that it would be goodfor papa to go there. Why, even the doctors are not sure what wouldbe good for papa! It is very hard to tell."
"Does it really take four whole days and five nights to get toColorado?" asked Rob. He had already given up the idea of theHimalayas, and was beginning to think about Colorado. Rob's mindmoved from one thing to another as quickly as a weathercock when thewind is shifting.
"Yes: four whole days and five nights," said Mrs. March; "or elsefour nights and five days, according to the time you start."
"Five days! days! Let's start so as to make it come five days; so asto see all we can," exclaimed Rob. "That's splendid! When will westart, mamma?"
"It isn't really sure, is it, mamma, that we are to go?" askedNelly, who had hardly had a chance yet to speak a word: Rob had beentalking so fast. "Does papa want to go?"
You see how much more thoughtful Nelly was for other people than forherself. All Rob was thinking of was what good times might come ofthis journey; but Nelly was thinking how hard it was for her papaand mamma to break up their pleasant home, and how sad it might befor all of them to go to live among strangers.
"No, dear," said Mrs. March. "Papa does not want to go at all. It isvery hard for him to make up his mind to do it. And I do not want togo either, except on papa's account: but we would go anywhere in theworld that would make papa well; wouldn't we?"
"Yes, indeed," said Nelly, earnestly.
"Why doesn't papa want to go?" cried Rob. "There'll be plenty ofpeople there to preach to: won't there? And that's all papa caresfor."
"Papa doesn't like to leave all these people here that he haspreached to for so many years: he loves them all very much," repliedMrs. March; "and he does not expect to preach any more if he goes toColorado. There are not a great many villages there; it is chiefly awild new country: people live on great farms and keep large herds ofsheep or of cows; and the doctor wants papa to be a farmer and workout of doors, and not live in his study among his books any more."
"Be a farmer like Uncle Alonzo?" exclaimed Nelly. "Oh, mamma,wouldn't that be nice? and wouldn't papa like that? He always has agood time when he goes to Uncle Alonzo's. He says it makes him feelas if he was a boy again. And oh, mamma, the cows are beautiful.Don't you like cows, mamma?"
Nelly was now almost as excited as Rob. She had been several timesto make a visit at her Uncle Alonzo's house. He was a rich farmer,and had big barns, and fields full of raspberries and huckleberries,and a beautiful pine grove close to the house; and he had nearly ahundred cows, and used to make butter and cheese to sell, and bothNelly and Rob thought there was nothing so delightful in the wholeworld as to stay at Uncle Alonzo's.
"No, dear," said Mrs. March. "I can't honestly say I do like cows. Iam so silly as to be afraid of them. But I like your Uncle Alonzo'sfarm very much."
"Oh, mamma, how can you be afraid of a cow!" cried Rob. "They neverhurt you."
"I suppose it's because I am a coward, Rob," answered Mrs. March;"but I can't help it. I was chased by a bull once when I was a girl;and, ever since then, I have been afraid of any thing which hashorns on its head."
"Is that what the word coward comes from, mamma?" asked Rob: "doesit mean to be afraid of a cow?"
"I guess not, Rob," said Mrs. March, laughing. "Don't begin to makepuns, Rob: it is a bad habit."
"Puns!" said Rob, much surprised; "what is a pun?"
Then Mrs. March tried to explain to Rob what a pun was, but it wasvery hard work; and I don't think Rob understood, after all herexplanations, so I shall not try to explain it to you here; but Idare say a great many of you understand what a pun is, and, if youdo, you will see that Rob had accidentally made rather a good pun,for a little boy only twelve years old, when he asked if a cowardwas a person afraid of a cow.
Presently the dinner-bell rang.
"Why, mamma," exclaimed both the children, "it isn't dinner-time, isit?"
"Yes, it really is," said Mrs. March, looking at her watch: "I hadno idea it was so late. Where has the morning gone to?"
"Gone to Colorado," exclaimed Rob, running downstairs, "gone toColorado! Hurrah for Colorado."
"By way of the Himalayas," said Nelly behind him, as they randownstairs.
"Be still, Nell, can't you," said Rob, half vexed, half laughing. "Ihaven't been in Geography half so long as you have. We haven't cometo the Himalayas yet."
Mr. March was just coming in at the front-door. He was so coveredwith snow that he looked like a snow-man; and as he stamped his feeton the door-mat, and shook off the snow from his overcoat and hatand beard, there seemed to be quite a snow-storm in the hall.
"Hurrah for Colorado," he repeated. "What does that mean? Who isgoing to Colorado?"
"All of us, papa; all of us, papa," cried Rob. "Mamma's told us allabout it, so you can't keep it a secret any longer."
Mr. March looked up inquiringly at Mrs. March, who was coming downthe stairs behind Nelly and Rob.
"Yes," she said, in answer to his inquiring look. "Yes. I have toldthe children all about it, and they
are both wild to go, though Robthinks the Himalayas would be a better place for you."
Mr. March burst into a loud laugh.
"The Himalayas!" he exclaimed. "Why, what do you know about theHimalayas, my boy?"
It was rather too bad to laugh at Rob so much about his idea of theHimalayas, I think; because almost any boy who had just been readingCaptain Mayne Reid's "Cliff Climbers," would think that there couldbe nothing in this life half so fine to do as to go to the Himalayasto live. Rob took it very good-naturedly this time, however.
"Not any thing, papa," he replied, "except what is in that book yougave me, the 'Cliff Climbers;' but that says some of the mountainsare five miles high, and I thought that would cure the asthma, to goup as high as that. Mamma says that's what we are going to Coloradofor, to get up high, to cure your asthma."
"Papa, we're so glad to go if it will make you better," said Nelly,taking hold of her father's hand with both of hers. Mr. Marchstooped over and kissed Nelly on her forehead.
"I know you are," he said: "you are papa's own little comfortalways."
Mr. March loved both of his children very dearly; but Nelly gave himmore pleasure than Rob did. He often said to his wife when they werealone: "Nelly never gives me a moment's anxiety. The child has allthe traits which will make her a noble and a useful and a happywoman; but I am not so sure about Rob. I am afraid we shall havetrouble with him." And Mrs. March always replied: "It is very trueall you say about Nelly. She is a thoroughly good child; but you arequite mistaken about Rob. He is very hasty and impulsive; but hewill come out all right. He has twice Nelly's cleverness, though heis so backward about his books. You'll see."
"I'm glad too, papa," cried Rob, "just as glad as any thing. It willbe splendid to live on a farm. Shall you wear blue overalls likeUncle Alonzo? And will you let me help milk? And can't I have a bullpup? I'm going to call him Caesar."
"Well, upon my word, young people," said Mr. March; and he looked athis wife when he spoke, "you seem to have got this thing pretty wellsettled between you. I don't know that we are going to Colorado atall: after dinner we will all sit down together and talk it over.I've got a letter here"--and he took a big envelope out of hispocket--"from a gentleman I wrote to in Colorado, and he has sentme some pictures of different places there, and of some of thestrange rocks. We can't have our sleigh-ride this afternoon; it isnot going to stop snowing: so we may as well take a journey toColorado on paper; perhaps it will be the only way we shall evergo."
Rob and Nelly could hardly eat their dinner: they were so eager tosee the Colorado pictures and to hear all about the country.
As Mr. March looked at their eager faces, he sighed, and thought tohimself:--
"Dear little souls! They have no idea of what is before them if wego to Colorado. It is as well they haven't."
"What makes you look so sad, papa?" said Nelly.
"Did I look sad, Nelly?" replied Mr. March. "I didn't mean to. I wasthinking how delighted you and Rob seemed at the idea of going toColorado, and thinking that you would probably find it verydifferent from what you expect. You would not be so comfortablethere as you are here."
"Isn't there enough to eat out there?" asked Rob, anxiously.
"Oh, yes!" said Mr. March, laughing, "plenty to eat."
"Well, that's all I care for," said Rob. "Oh, papa, do hurry! younever ate your dinner so slow before. I've been done ever so long.Can't I be excused, and go and read till you're ready to show us thepictures?"
"Yes," said Mrs. March, "you may both go up into my room; and, assoon as papa and I have finished our dinner, we will come up thereand have our talk."
Mrs. March wished to have a little conversation alone with herhusband before their talk with the children. She told him aboutNelly's having accidentally overheard what they were saying in thenight; "so I thought I would tell them all about it," she said.
"Certainly, certainly," said Mr. March. "There is no reason theyshould not know. Even if we do not go, no harm can come of it."
Then she told him of the obstinate notion Rob had taken into hishead about the Himalayas, and how hard it had been to convince himthat they ought not to set off for those mountains at once. Mr.March was laughing very heartily over this as they went up thestairs, and, as they entered the room, Rob said:--
"What are you and mamma laughing so about, papa?"
Mrs. March gave her husband a meaning look, intended to warn him notto tell Rob that they were laughing at him; but Mr. March did notunderstand her glance.
"Laughing at your fierce desire to start off for the Himalayas,Rob," he said.
"I don't care," said Rob: "I'm going there some day. You just readthe 'Cliff Climbers,' and see if you don't think so too. I'll takeyou and mamma and Nell there when I'm a man and have money enough;see if I don't."
"Well, well, Rob, we'll go when that time comes, if we're not tooold when you're rich enough to pay all that the journey costs. I'vealways thought I should like to go round the world," said Mr. March;"but now we'll look at the Colorado pictures."
Then they sat down, Mr. and Mrs. March on the lounge in front of thefire, Nelly in her father's lap, and Rob perched up on the back ofthe lounge behind his mother, so that he could look over hershoulder.
The first picture Mr. March took out of the envelope was one whichlooked like the picture of two gigantic legs and feet wrong side up.
"Oh, what big feet!" exclaimed Rob. "Do giants live in Colorado?"
Mr. March turned the picture the other side up.
"They are rocks, Rob," he said, "not feet; but they do look likefeet, that's a fact. These are some of the rocks in a place calledMonument Park, because it is so full of these queer rocks. Here aresome more of them: they are of very strange shapes. Here are somethat look like women walking with big hoop-skirts on, and some likeposts with round caps on their heads; and here is a picture of aplace where so many of these rocks are scattered among the trees,that they look like people walking about. Here is one group whichhas been called the 'Quaker Wedding.'"
"Oh, let me see that! let me see that!" exclaimed Nelly. "How queerto call rocks Quakers!"
"I don't see that they look very much like men and women, afterall," added she as she studied the picture; "but they don't looklike any rocks I ever saw. I think I should be afraid of them. Theylook alive."
"Pooh!" said Rob, "I shouldn't be. Rocks can't stir. Show us somemore, papa."
The next pictures were of beautiful waterfalls: there were three ofthem,--one of seven falls, one above the other, and one of abeautiful fall, very narrow, hemmed in between rocks, with tallpine-trees growing about it. The next was of a high mountain withsnow half way down its sides, and a great many lower mountains allaround it. This was called Pike's Peak.
"Oh, papa!" said Nelly, "could we live where we could see thatmountain all the time?"
"Perhaps so, Nell," answered her father, smiling at her eagerness:"would you like to?"
Nelly was looking at the picture intently, and did not reply for amoment. Then she said:--
"Papa, I think it would keep us good all the time to look at thatmountain."
"Why, Nell," said her mother, "I didn't know you cared so much formountains. You never said so."
"I never saw a real mountain before," said Nelly. "This isn't a bitlike Mount Saycross."
The town of Mayfield was in one of the pleasantest counties inMassachusetts. The region was very beautifully wooded and hadseveral small rivers in it, and one range of low hills called theSaycross Hills; the highest of these was perhaps three thousand feethigh, and Nelly had spent many a day on its top: but she had neverseen any thing which gave her any idea of the grandeur of a highmountain till she saw this picture of Pike's Peak. It seemed as ifshe could not take her eyes away from this picture: she looked at itas one looks at the picture of the face of a friend.
"Oh papa!" she exclaimed at last, "let me have this picture for myown: won't you? I'll be very, very careful of it."
"Yes, you may have it
if you want it so much," replied Mr. March,"but be very sure not to lose it. I may want to show it to some one,any day."
"I won't lose it, papa," said Nelly, in a tone of so much feelingthat her father looked at her in surprise.
"Why, Nell," he said, "you must be a born mountaineer I think."
And so she was. From the day she first looked on this picture ofPike's Peak till the day when she stood at the foot of the realmountain itself, it was seldom out of her mind. She kept the littlecard in the box with Mrs. Napoleon's best bonnet and gown, and shetalked so much about it that her father called her his "littlePike's Peak girl."
The rest of the pictures were of some of the towns in Colorado, someranches,--ranches is the word which the Coloradoans use instead offarm,--and some beautiful canyons. A canyon is either a narrowvalley with very high steep sides to it, or a chasm between tworocky walls. The most beautiful and wonderful things in Colorado arethe canyons; they all have streams of water running through them; infact, the canyons may be said to be roads which rivers and creekshave made for themselves among the mountains. Sometimes the riverhas cut a road for itself right down through solid rock, twelvehundred feet deep. You can think how deep that must be, by lookingat the walls of the room you are sitting in, as you read this story.Probably the walls of your room are about ten feet high. Now imaginewalls of rock one hundred and twenty times as high as that; and onlyfar enough apart for a small river to go through at the bottom; andthen imagine beautiful great pine-trees, and many sorts of shrubsand flowers growing all the way down these sides, and along theupper edges of them, and don't you see what a wonderful place acanyon must be? You mustn't think either that they are just straightup and down walls, such as a mason might build out of bricks, orthat they run straight in one direction for their whole length. Theyare made up often of great rocks as big as houses piled one on topof another, and all rough and full of points, and with big caves inthem; and they turn and twist, just as the river has turned andtwisted, to the north or south or east or west. Sometimes they takesuch sharp turns that, when you look ahead, all you can see is thebig high wall right before you, and it looks as if you couldn't goany farther; but, when you go a few steps nearer, you will see thatboth the high walls bend off to the right or the left, and the riveris still running between them, and you can go right on. One of theprettiest pictures which Mr. March's friend had sent him was of acanyon called Boulder Canyon. It is named after the town of Boulder,which is very near it. This is one of the most beautiful canyons inall Colorado. It is very narrow, for the creek which made it is asmall creek; but the bed of the creek is full of great rocks, andthe creek just goes tumbling head over heels, if a creek can be saidto have head and heels. Ten miles long this canyon is, and the creekis in a white foam all the way. There is just room for the road byside of the creek; first one side and then the other. I think itcrosses the creek as many as twenty-five times in the ten miles; andit is shaded all the way by beautiful trees, and flowers grow inevery crevice of the rocks, and along the edge of the water. As Roband Nelly looked at picture after picture of these beautiful places,they grew more and more excited. Rob could not keep still: he jumpeddown from his perch behind his mother's shoulder, and ran round tohis father's knee. "Papa, papa! say you'll go? say you'll go?" andNelly said in her quieter voice:--
"Oh papa! I didn't know there were such beautiful places in theworld. Don't you think we'll go?"
Pretty soon it grew too dark to look at the pictures any longer, andMrs. March sent the children downstairs to play in the dining-roomby the fire-light.
After they had gone, she said to her husband: "Doesn't it make youmore willing to go, Robert, to see how eager the children are forit?"
Mr. March sighed.
"I do not know, Sarah," he said. "Their feelings are very soonchanged one way or the other. A little discomfort would soon makethem unhappy. I have great fears about the rough life out there,both for them and for you."
"I wish you would not think so much about that," replied Mrs. March."I am convinced that you exaggerate it. I am not in the leastafraid; and as for the children they are so young they would soongrow accustomed to any thing. Of course there would be no danger ofour not being able to have good plain food; and that is the onlyreal necessity."
"But you seem to forget, Sarah, about schools. How are we to educatethe children there?"
"Teach them ourselves, Robert," replied Mrs. March earnestly. "Itwill be better for them in every way. Such an out-door life as theywill lead there is ten times better than all the schools in theworld. Oh, Robert! if you can only be well and strong, we shall beperfectly happy. I am as eager to go as the children are."
Mrs. March had been from the beginning in favor of the move. Infact, except for her, Mr. March would never have thought of it. Hewas a patient and quiet man, and would have gone on bearing thesuffering of his asthma till he died, without thinking of thepossibility of escaping it by so great a change as the going to anew country to live. It was well for him that he had a wife of adifferent nature. Mrs. March had no patience with people who, as shesaid, would "put up with any thing, rather than take trouble." Mrs.March's way was never to "put up" with any thing which was wrong,unless she had tried every possible way of righting it. Then, whenshe was convinced that it couldn't be righted, she would make thebest of it, and not grumble or be discontented. Which way do youthink was the best?--Mr. March's or Mrs. March's? I think Mrs.March's was; and I think Rob and Nelly were very fortunate childrento have a mother who taught them such a good doctrine of life. Thisis the way she would have put it, if she had been going to write itout in rules.
First. If you don't like a thing, try with all your might to make itas you do like it.
Second. If you can't possibly make it as you like it, stop thinkingabout it: let it go.
There was a very wise man, who lived hundreds and hundreds of yearsago, who said very much the same thing, only in different words. Idon't know whether Mrs. March ever heard of him or not. His name wasEpictetus, and he was only a poor slave. But he said so many wisethings that men kept them and printed them in a book; and one of thethings he said was this:--
"There are things which are within our power, and there are thingswhich are beyond our power. Seek at once to be able to say to everyunpleasing semblance: 'You are but a semblance, and by no means thereal thing.' And then examine it by those rules which you have; andfirst and chiefly by this: whether it concerns the things which arewithin our own power, or those which are not; and if it concerns anything beyond our power, be prepared to say that it is nothing toyou."
I think this would be a good rule for all of us to copy and pin upon the door of our rooms, to read every morning before we godownstairs. Some of the words sound a little hard to understand atfirst: but after they are explained to you they wouldn't seem so;and if we all lived up to this rule, we should always be contented.
Late in the evening, after the children had gone to bed, as Mr. andMrs. March sat talking over their plans, there came a loud ring atthe door-bell.
"I think that is Deacon Plummer," said Mr. March. "He said he wouldcome in to-night and talk over Colorado. He has been thinking forsome time of going out there; and, if we go, I think he will gotoo."
"Will he, really?" exclaimed Mrs. March. "And Mrs. Plummer? What ahelp that would be!"
"Yes, it would be a great advantage," said Mr. March. "He is thebest farmer in all this region, and as honest as the day is long;and, queer as he is, I like him, I believe, better than any deaconI've ever had."
"And he likes you too," said Mrs. March. "I believe if he goes now,it will be only to go with you; or, at least, partly for that. Mrs.Plummer's health, I suppose, is one reason."
"Yes, that is it," said Mr. March. "The doctors say she must go toFlorida next winter: she can't stand another of our winters here;and Mr. Plummer says he'd rather break up altogether and move to anew place, than be always journeying back and forth."
Just as Mr. March pronounced these words, t
he door opened and Deaconand Mrs. Plummer appeared. They were a very droll little couple:they were very short and very thin and very wrinkled. Deacon Plummerhad little round black eyes, and Mrs. Plummer had little round blueeyes. Deacon Plummer had thin black hair, which was very stiff, andnever would lie down flat, and Mrs. Plummer had very thin whitehair, which was as soft as a baby's, and always clung as close toher head as if it had been glued on. It was so thin that the skin ofher head showed through, pink, in many places; and, except for thelittle round knot of hair at the back, you might have taken it for ababy's head. Deacon Plummer always spoke very fast and very loud, soloud that at first you jumped, and wondered if he thought everybodywas deaf. Mrs. Plummer always spoke in a little fine squeaky voice,and had to stop to cough every few minutes, so it took her a greatwhile to say any thing. Deacon Plummer very seldom smiled, andlooked quite fierce. Mrs. Plummer had a habit of smiling most of thetime, and looked so good-natured she looked almost silly. She wasnot silly, however: she was sensible, and was one of the besthousekeepers and cooks in all Mayfield. She was famous for makinggood crullers; and, whenever she came to Mr. March's house, shealways brought four crullers in her pocket,--two for Rob and two forNelly. As soon as she came into the room this night, she beganfumbling in her pocket, saying:--
"Good evening, Mrs. March. How do you do, Mr. March?" (cough,cough). "I've brought a cruller" (cough, cough) "for the" (cough,cough) "children. Dear me" (cough, cough), "they're crumbled up"(cough, cough). "I got a leetle too much lard in 'em, jest a leetle,and the leastest speck too much lard'll make 'em crumble like anything" (cough, cough); "but I reckon the crumbs'll taste good"(cough, cough) "if they be crumbled" (cough, cough); and, going tothe table, she turned her pocket wrong side out, and emptied upon anewspaper a large pile of small bits of cruller. "Do you thinkthey'll mind their being" (cough, cough) "crumbled up?" (cough,cough) "'twas only my spectacle case" (cough, cough) "did it," shesaid, looking anxiously at the crumbs.
"Call 'em crumblers! call 'em crumblers," said Deacon Plummer,laughing hard at his own joke, and rubbing his hands together beforethe fire; "tell the children they're a new kind, called crumblers."
"Oh! the children won't mind," said Mrs. March, politely, and shebrought a glass dish from the closet, and, filling it with thecrumbs, covered it with a red napkin, and set it on the sideboard."There," said she, "as soon as Rob comes downstairs in the morning,he will peep into this dish, and the first thing he will say willbe, 'I know who's been here: Mrs. Plummer's been here. I know hercrullers.' That's what he always says when he finds your crullers onthe sideboard."
Mrs. Plummer's little blue eyes twinkled with pleasure, so that thewrinkles around their corners all folded together like the sticks ofan umbrella shutting up.
"Does he now, really?" she said. "The dear little fellow! Childrenalways does like crullers."
"Crumblers; call 'em crumblers," shouted the Deacon. "That's thebest name for 'em anyhow."
"Well, Parson," he said, "how's Colorado? Heard any thing more? Mean' my wife's gettin' more'n more inter the notion of goin', thatis, ef you go. We shan't pick up an' go off by ourselves; we're tooold, an' we ain't used enough to travellin': but ef you go, we go;that's about fixed, ain't it, 'Lizy?" and he looked at his wife andthen at Mr. March and then at Mrs. March, with his queer littlequick, fierce glance, as if he had said something very warlike, andeverybody were going to contradict him at once.
"Yes" (cough, cough), "I expect we'd better" (cough, cough) "go'long; 't seems kinder" (cough, cough) "providential like our allgoin'" (cough, cough) "together so. Don't you think" (cough, cough)"so, Mrs. March? Be ye sure" (cough, cough) "ye'd like to have usgo?" replied Mrs. Plummer.
"Oh, yes, indeed!" said Mrs. March. "Mr. March was just speaking ofit when you came in how much he would like to have Deacon Plummergo. Mr. March knows very little about farming, though he was broughtup on a farm, and he will be very glad of Deacon Plummer's help; andI shall be very glad to see two Mayfield faces there. I expect to belonely sometimes."
"Lonely, ma'am, lonely!" spoke up the Deacon: "can't be lonely,ma'am. Don't think of such a thing, ma'am, with the youngsters,ma'am, and me an' my wife, ma'am, an' the Parson. I'd like to seeyou have a lonesome minnit, ma'am;" and the Deacon looked round onthem all again with his quick, fierce look.
Mr. March laughed. "It seems to be shutting in all round us, Sarah,to take us to Colorado: doesn't it?"
"It isn't two hours," he continued, turning to Deacon Plummer,"since the children left us to go to bed, with their heads so fullof Colorado and their desire to set out for the country immediately,that I am afraid they haven't shut their eyes yet. And as for Nelly,she's gone to bed with a picture of Pike's Peak in her hand."
"Picture! Have ye got pictures of the country round about there?"interrupted the Deacon. "I'd like to see 'em, Parson; so'd Elizy.She was a wonderin' how 'twould look in them parts. She hain'ttravelled none, Elizy hain't, since she was a gal. I hain't neverbeen much of a hand to stir away from home, an' I donno now what'staken me so sudden to go so far away; but I expect it'sprovidential."
Mr. March took the Colorado pictures out of the big envelope again,and showed them to Deacon and Mrs. Plummer. They were as interestedin them as Rob and Nelly had been, and it made Mrs. March laugh tothink how much the old man and his wife, bending over the pictures,looked like Rob and Nelly suddenly changed from ten years old tosixty. Mrs. Plummer did not say much. Her spectacles were not quitestrong enough for her eyes. She had been for a whole year thinkingof getting a new pair, and she wished to-night she had done so, forshe could not see any thing in the stereoscope distinctly. But shesaw enough to fill her with wonder and delight, and make herimpatient to go to the country where there were such beautifulsights to be seen. As for the Deacon, he could hardly containhimself: in his excitement, he slapped Mr. March's knee, andexclaimed:--
"By golly,--beg your pardon, sir,--but this must be the greatestcountry goin'. It'd pay to go jest to see it, ef we didn't any more'n look round 'n come right home again. Don't you think so, Elizy?"
The enthusiasm of these good old people, and the eager wishes of thechildren produced a great impression on both Mr. and Mrs. March. Itdid really seem as if every thing showed that they ought to go;and, before Deacon and Mrs. Plummer went home, it was about decidedthat the plan should be carried out.
Deacon Plummer was for starting immediately.
"I'll jest turn the key in my house," he said, "'n start rightalong; 'n you'd better do the same thing; we don't want to be leftwithout a roof to come back to ef things turns out different fromwhat we expect; ef we settle, we kin come back 'n sell outafterwards; 'n the sooner we git there the better, afore the heavysnows set in."
"But they don't have heavy snows in Colorado, not in the part wherewe are going," said Mr. March: "the cattle run out in the openfields all winter."
"You don't mean to tell me so!" exclaimed the Deacon. "What acountry to live in! I should think everybody'd go into raisin'cattle afore anything else."
"I think that is one of the best things to do there," replied Mr.March. "I have already made up my mind to that. And there is nothingI should enjoy more. And between your farming and my herds ofcattle, we ought to make a good living. Deacon, come round in themorning and we'll talk it over more, and see what time it's best tostart."
At breakfast the next morning, Mr. March told Rob and Nelly that itwas decided that they would move out to Colorado. The two childrenreceived the news very differently. Nelly dropped her knife andfork, and looked steadily in her father's face for a full minute:her cheeks grew red, and she drew in a long breath, and said, "Oh!oh!" That was all she said; but her face was radiant with happiness.Rob bounded out of his chair, flew to his mother and gave her akiss, then to his father and gave him a great hug, and then he gavea regular Indian war-whoop, as he ran back to his seat.
"Rob! Rob! you must not be so boisterous," exclaimed his mother; butshe was laughing as hard as she could laugh, and Rob knew she wasnot re
ally displeased with him.
"Oh Nell, Nell!" cried Rob, "isn't it splendid? why don't you sayany thing?"
"I can't," replied Nelly. But her cheeks were growing redder andredder every minute, and her father saw that tears were coming inher eyes.
"Why, Nell," he said, "you are not sorry, are you? I thought youwanted to go."
"Oh, so I do, papa," exclaimed Nelly; "I want to go so much that Ican't believe it."
Mr. March smiled. He understood Nelly better than her mother did.